


soon.

by vernily



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Poetry, References to Depression, References to Drugs, triggering content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernily/pseuds/vernily
Summary: xvi, april. (i).these words speak louder than i ever will.





	1. in this world.

**Author's Note:**

> these poems hold a lot of emotion and detail that could be triggering, including mental illness, suicide, drug use, etc. please be aware.
> 
> if you would like to listen to the music that i listen to while i write, you can find it here.  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/kicktheapril/playlist/34UVhJ4xGxTfg9mGIlBSSr

we build these marble statues out of battle wounds.  
write our names in the stars so we are never forgotten.  
bleed out in hope that we stain the tiles that lay before us.

we do this all in desire of dying knowing we are remembered.

bellowing out in pain not for attention but for comfort.  
splitting wrists open, a razor blade following the trail of veins hiding behind porcelain skin,  
all to watch as these inner demons swim in crimson that should fear us, yet with it in sight,  
gives us the safety of knowing where it all ends.

dipping toes in snow covered lakes, watching the ashes of mother's cigarettes blow with the autumn wind.  
crossing fingers and wishing on stand still stars that we wake up not feeling like a burden like we had the morning of today,  
and yesterday,  
and the day before that.

whisper goodnight to a god unheard of.  
listen to the rain hit the window and slide down the see through glass in a state of panic of not knowing what's to come.  
_what we feel like now._

taking the stars that have fallen from our saddened eyes and placing them back home hoping that maybe one day,  
the universe will mistaken us as one and bring us back home.  
finally be something, someone, up in the constellations where we belong.  
watching the sun rise over the hill as we pull a smile on our face in desire of feeling happy for once.

trying,  
just trying to be okay.  
and finally feel alive.

empty skeletons wearing skin that holds no meaning  
the only indication that we are human is the way our heart sinks  
into the depth of our stomach the second we realize who we are not meant to be.

counting the matter of time it takes to fall asleep with a vacant chest heaving up and down only because we continue to allow it.

wanting the satisfaction of feeling free as the wind blows through our hair and our fingers wiggle outside open car windows.  
finding a way out of misery and bad luck when it's all we've ever known.  
drowning in the sorrow land while you hear people continue to swim in the oceans waves of glory and all it's ever going to give.

floating above clouds one minute and the next,  
feeling the heaviness in your feet as we stand tall and reach for mars.  
stare at our fingertips in a dark room, seeing picasso's lines in the palms of your hands.

roses dangle from a glass vase no longer holding water for flowers took  
it for granted and swallowed it all in one gulp than saving it for tomorrow.

we, we are these roses, growing closer to death because of greed considering it's all we know how to do  
when we are free from our mother's womb and have it inked into our blood.  
attention seeking, agony sketched into our ribs for every beat our heart sings causes us to cry out in pain.

we all just want to feel something.  
love, misery, sadness, pain.

people need to be fed emotionally and they attempt to be full but with actions, they continue to feel empty.

i'd rather be lost in the stardust than be nothing at all.


	2. the art of falling in love.

doesn't love me anymore / is such a sad way to put / falling out of such passion / even though / you can't fall out of love / because all you have been doing is falling in love / a painful journey / where trust and safety / all you have never known / is taught between small lines / and it's your choice to write in permanent ink these words / or in pencil that can be erased away as easily / as his heart stopped singing your favorite song / and how he asked for his sweatshirt back / the one with marshmallow stain on it that just won't come out / that happened the second time he had said i loved you / yet it still felt like the first / and you wore it so much / that you had to ask him to spray it with his cologne / because the ache of not having his comfort while he was gone / overpowered you to such a state / that you didn't even want to think / about how this pain would expand / if he were to ever truly leave / but he did / eventually he packed away his things / and he said goodbye / and he wished you the best even though / he was your best / you still find your hands sinking into the box of things he has forgotten / toying with broken watches / outlining old photos / if you empty out the box enough / you'll find your heart / and all the promises of the future / for he had forgotten all about that too / you're lost in how he no longer found interest / how one night he kissed your forehead / admitted how in love he was with you / and the next / over morning coffee / tells you his veins run cold when he embraces you / and his tongue becomes bitter at the sound of your name / even though you never did anything wrong / it is then / that you learn there is / no such thing as falling out of love / because the agony is what lies in falling in love / the push off the balcony / the rooftop that you feared to over look / and not knowing who would be there to catch you / it is the act of falling / watching the beauty of the clouds stand still / as the wind blows your hair forward / and you appreciate everything / the pulse in your temples / the whistle of the wind / the warmth in between fingers / you find beauty / and desire in it all / it is when everything comes to a halt / when you hit the concrete that has been waiting to catch you / that you feel numb / nothing / your mind runs completely blank / and you're too scared to look around to see who was standing near you / who was watching the fall happen / but never felt the audacity to catch you / feeling every inch of bone crack into fragments / as your body no longer free falls to the sidewalk / and out of the corner of your eye / you see him walking away / not even acknowledging / the sound of you / crying out in pain / or how you try to reach out for him / but you're too broken to move / it is then that you learn / it's not about the falling / it's about what you do / when you finally hit the bottom / and you have this time to yourself / that you haven't had in such a long time / that the quietness in your home / is more painful / than the crash itself


	3. and she continues to stand tall without the help of anyone.

she was burgundy poison, january fires;  
he only wished to be the start of the flames but   
was nothing less than worthless embers.


End file.
